A/N: Hey guys! Once more, thank you so much for the reviews! They make my day!

So . . . *cough* . . . keep me happy and review . . .

This chapter has a whole lot more "me" to it, so hopefully this read will be a lot of fun. :)

Quote of the day comes from Harry Potter.

"It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more." - Albus Dumbledore

Random Disclaimer: I do not own CF, though I do own a rather fantastic fedora; "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"; "Why is the rum always gone?"; "Why so serious?"; "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!"; "I am Asneeze, father of Achoo."; "Dobby did not mean to kill . . . only to maim . . . or seriously injure."; "My precious!"; "Puny god"; "So that's what it feels like"; "Yeah, I can fly."; "There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that."; "Your skin is pale white, you dress fashionably, and you abstain from sex. . . I know what you are . . . Jonas brother"; "Snakes. I hate snakes."; "When you marooned me on that god forsaken spit of land, you forgot one very important thing, mate: I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."; "It's like Christmas, but with more . . . me."; "It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."


Chapter 16

Oh, crap.

I flee back into the safety of the tree line, practically waiting for Peacekeepers to come out of nowhere and snag me. My mind frantically searches for any kind of solution. I can't risk going under the fence, avoiding the chain link. Even with my slim body it's practically impossible. I suppose I could walk along the fence, searching for a spot that isn't electrified, if such a spot even exists.

The cold nights won't allow me to stay out in the woods. I'll freeze. No doubt we'll get more snow tonight, and I really don't feel like freezing to death. Now, if I had Peeta and heat reflective sleeping bag, that scenario wouldn't be so abominable. I shake my head, trying to clear these thoughts. I really don't need that type of distraction right now.

Still, I'm fighting a panic as I continue to stare at the fence. The hum of the electricity is as loud as a hive of tracker jackers, and I'm not relishing the comparison and the memories that come with it. It's not as though this is the first time this has happened. Twice actually, Gale and I have returned to the fence and found it electrified. We always waited it out. It was never for more than a few hours, and both times it was in the summer where the cool shade of the trees was a relief, and not a cause for more shivering.

I know that I can't stay out here. I have to find a way over the fence. One, because I have no doubt that I'll have Peacekeepers waiting for me in the morning to take me away if I don't show up in town tomorrow. They'll know that I'm stuck in the woods. Second reason is because if I'm not home soon, Peeta is going to come looking for me, which would also tip off the Peacekeepers that something is amiss and he'll lead them straight to me.

I have to find a way over this damn fence.

My eyes scan the trees. Maybe if I could find one whose branches extend over the fence, I could climb it and then drop down on the other side? The only problem with this plan is the fall that I would face. Any higher than six feet and I risk breaking something if I land wrong. I begin to walk along the fence, my eyes searching for a suitable tree. After a few hundred yards I finally spot a tree that I think will serve my purpose. It's an old maple, and I quickly scale it, though I'm extra cautious due to the ice patches that decorate the tree in some places.

When I reach the branch that extends over the fence, I gently ease myself onto it, slowly moving along its length until I'm hanging on the other side of the fence. However, my fingers refuse to let go because I know that I'm going to get hurt when I land.

The fence stands at about fifteen to twenty feet, which means I have to be at least twenty feet high to avoid getting fried. The branch I'm currently hanging from is about twenty-five feet. Even if I'm able to land properly, I'm going to at least twist something, maybe sprain, though the snow will help soften my impact with the ground. Even for an experienced climber like me, there's no avoiding the pain that this long drop is going to bring.

But pain is not a foreign concept to me.

I take a deep breath, and then I let go.

The fall doesn't last as long as you would think, but when I hit the ground the impact sends a jolt throughout my entire body. And then I feel the fiery pain in my left knee. It's twisted. I know it is. I've dealt with this injury before, and it's just as painful as I remember it being. I curse under my breath, but try to focus and see if I have any other injuries. Aside from the zinging in my feet from the hard impact with the ground, I think I'm unharmed. Except for my knee, which is screaming at me.

The last time I twisted my knee, I was in the woods with Gale and he carried me home. I don't have that luxury this time. Oh, well. I grit my teeth as I get to my feet, putting all my weight on my right leg. I immediately realize that there's no way I'm going to avoid more pain. There's no way I can hop my way through snow that is at least a foot high, and that's a minimum. Not that I could necessarily make my way through town hopping on one foot.

Sure to draw attention if I do that.

The pain of my first step causes me to hiss, but I soldier through it, trying to hide my limp as best I can. My mind is racing with alibis. My mother and Prim can't know that I was in the woods. I know Peeta won't tell them, he'd never betray me like that, but simply giving out food wouldn't take as much time as I've been gone, even if I stopped and talked to every single person I met. I need another excuse.

Once I get onto the road in the Seam, my walking is a little bit easier since I don't have to navigate all the snow since the roads have been cleared. Still, that doesn't detract from the stabbing pain in my knee. I force myself to walk straight and tall in town, going into a couple of shops to buy a few things. A bag of peppermints for Prim. Some white cloth bandages for my mother. She's running low and I meant to get them today anyway.

Realizing that I haven't eaten a thing all day, I take out a peppermint and pop it in my mouth. I'd meant to make a meal out of the food I brought to the lake, but I'd given it all to Bonnie and Twill, which reminds me that I need to find a time to tell Peeta, maybe Haymitch.

But first I need to think of a story to tell my mother about exactly how I twisted my knee. Maybe I could say that I was fixing a leak on the roof of our old house and slipped over the edge. Slipped on a patch of ice? That might work. Certainly plausible, right?

When I finally reach the Victor's Village, I'm barely able to put one foot in front of the other. I debate going to Peeta's house, but I decide that he's probably at my house anyway, waiting for me. We were supposed to have dinner with my mother and Prim tonight. I think Prim mentioned Haymitch joining us, too. I force myself up the steps to the front door, and the weight it puts on my knee almost makes me collapse, but I keeping walking.

I open the door, my current goal to make it into the living room and collapse in front of the fire, but when I look up that plan is shot to hell. Two Peacekeepers are standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The woman manages to look impassive, but the man can't hide his surprise when he sees me. So the electrified fence was no accident. They were trying to trap me.

Well, haha, I escaped. What now?

"Hello," I say, keeping my voice calm.

My mother suddenly appears behind them. "Here she is, just in time for dinner," she says. Her voice is too forced, though. It doesn't sound genuine. Besides, dinner was hours ago.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask as I take off my jacket and shake out the snow in my hair. I would take my boots off, but there's no way I'd manage with my knee.

"Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you," says the woman, her voice seeming unnaturally low for a female.

"They've been waiting for hours," my mother tells me.

Of course they have. They've been waiting for me not to return, for me to get zapped by the fence or get trapped in the woods. If my knee wasn't hurting to the point of total distraction, I would feel incredibly smug that I'd outwitted them.

"Must be an important message," I say mildly as I force myself to walk past them into the kitchen without limping.

When I see Peeta and Haymitch sitting by the hearth in a pair of matching rockers playing chess, I'm instantly relieved. Maya is lying at their feet, though her eyes are trained on the Peacekeepers, tracking their every move. Peeta gives me one of his best smiles, though I see his eyes narrow ever so slightly. He knows something's wrong. Or he's just mad at me for going into the woods.

Probably a little of both.

I settle myself into a chair at the kitchen table, tossing my bag down at my feet. My eyes find the Peacekeepers, looking at them expectantly. The woman speaks. "May we ask where you've been, Miss Everdeen?"

"Easier to ask where I haven't been," I say with exasperation, shooting a mild glare at Prim, who is standing stiffly by the hearth, watching Peeta and Haymitch's chess game.

"So where haven't you been?" Haymitch says, boredom clear as day in his tone.

"Well, I haven't been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim's goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives," I say, my words aimed at Prim in my best annoyed-older-sister voice.

"No, I didn't," Prim says, sounding defensive. "I told you exactly."

"You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine."

"The east entrance."

I scoff. "You distinctly said the west," I tell her emphatically. "Because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?' and you said, 'Yeah.'"

Prim looks like I'm trying her patience. "The slag heap next to the east entrance."

"No." I shake my head. "When did you say that?"

Haymitch snorts. "Last night."

"It was definitely the east," Peeta adds and he and Haymitch share a laugh at my expense.

I glare at Peeta and he tries to look apologetic, but he can't completely wipe that stupid smirk off his face. "I'm sorry, but it's what I've been saying. You don't listen when people talk to you."

Okay, this time when I glare at him, it's real. That was a jab at me for going into the woods, after he warned me to be careful. Peeta gives me a too innocent smile, and I scowl.

"Bet people told you he didn't live there today and you didn't listen again," Haymitch chimes in with a smirk and I huff.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I snap, making it sound as though that's exactly what happened.

Haymitch and Peeta laugh at me again, and even Prim cracks a smile.

"Fine." I glower at them all, though I make sure too look slightly embarrassed. "Somebody else can arrange to the get stupid goat knocked up," I grumble, which only makes everyone laugh more. I'm grateful to Peeta and Haymitch. Nothing throws them, it's how they've made it this far.

My eyes find the Peacekeepers. The man is smiling, but the woman remains unconvinced. "What's in the bag?"

I wonder what she's hoping for. Squirrels? Rabbits? A wild turkey? Wild plants? I'm grateful I stopped by and bought some stuff. It would look suspicious if I was carrying around an empty game bag for no reason.

"See for yourself," I say as I dump the contents onto the table.

"Oh, good," my mother immediately says, snatching up the cloth bandages. "We're running low. Thank you for getting them."

"No problem," I say with a shrug.

Peeta grins as he comes up to the table and snatches the bag of candy. "Ooh peppermints," he says as he pops one into his mouth.

"Hey," I protest, making a grab for them, but he tosses them to Haymitch, who stuffs a handful into his mouth before giving the bag to a giggly Prim. "None of you deserve candy!" I say.

Peeta comes up behind my chair, placing his large hands on my shoulders. "What, because we're right?" he teases me. I make of sound of indignation and Peeta sighs. "Okay. Prim said west. I distinctly heard west, and we're all idiots. How's that?"

"Better," I say with a smile as he kisses my cheek. Suddenly, I look up at the Peacekeepers, as if I just remembered their presence. "You had a message for me?"

"From Peacekeeper Thread," the woman repeats, as if this somehow makes it more important. "He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District 12 will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day."

"Didn't it already?" I ask innocently, unable to help myself.

I see the woman fight back her ire. "He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin."

I know that I should hold my tongue, but I can't help myself. The fact that I slipped through their clutches gives me a sense of satisfaction. This is what causes me to say, "Thank you. I'll tell him. I'm sure we'll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse."

With no further reason to stay, the woman simply nods curtly and leaves, the man following in her wake. I wait until I hear my mother shut the door behind them before I finally allow myself to wince. Peeta is immediately at my side, crouched in front of me. "What did you do?" he asks as my mother enters the room.

"Oh, I twisted my knee again," I say with a hiss as Peeta gently touches my bad knee. How he knew it was my left and not my right that was hurt, I have no idea. I conclude that it's just Peeta knowing me better than anyone.

My mother politely shoos Peeta away, telling him to go get some snow and wrap it in a towel for my knee. Meanwhile, my mother is rolling up my pant leg. Gently she puts some pressure at certain points on my knee and I fight the curse that threatens to escape me. Peeta returns with the snow, and I immediately sigh when the cold cloth hits my knee.

"It's twisted," my mother says, confirming what I already knew. "What happened?"

"Slipped on some ice," I answer, ignoring Haymitch's eye roll and Peeta's frown.

What matters is that my mother believes me. "You should be more careful," she chides.

"That's what I keep saying," Peeta adds, unable to help himself.

I glare at him. He glares at me.

"A week of bed rest should do you good," my mother says. "Don't put any pressure on it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Without any prompt, Peeta scoops me up into his arms like it's the easiest thing in the world. Although, given how much I've seen him lift, my weight really does seem rather insignificant. Still, I'm a little pissed at his, "I told you so" attitude, what with the glaring and underhanded comments.

"Why are you carrying me?" I huff indignantly.

"Because you're not supposed to put pressure on your knee," he replies automatically. "Besides, I'm the only one in here that can carry you up the stairs, aside from Haymitch of course, and I really don't think he'd want to haul you up the stairs."

"Definitely not," Haymitch agrees without looking up from the chess board. He makes a move, and says, "Check."

Peeta turns, me still in his arms, to look at the chess board. He studies it for a minute before smirking. He shifts me to one arm and moves a piece. "Checkmate."

We hear Haymitch spluttering all the way up the stairs.

Peeta sets me down on the bed and goes to my dresser, presumably to find me a change of clothes. He rifles through the drawers before he turns to look at me. "Exactly how many of my shirts do you have?"

I blush. "Probably too many," I admit and Peeta grins. He holds up two of his shirts, a blue one and a green one. "Which one do you want?"

"Blue," I answer automatically. It matches his eyes, so it's my favorite. He actually stole it back a few weeks ago, but I got it back earlier this week.

"It's my favorite shirt," he mutters as he tosses it at me.

I grin. "Mine too."

Peeta smiles. "Admittedly, you wear it better than I do."

Of course, this comment makes me blush and Peeta can't help but chuckle. "Do you want help?" he asks, motioning to my clothes.

"Depends," I say teasingly as I begin to pull my sweater over my head. "Will you be able to control yourself?"

Peeta grins and pointedly helps me out of the sweater, tossing it to the floor. His lips find mine, and I can't help but smile. "See?" I say when his lips move to my neck. "You're not controlling yourself."

"Oh, believe me, I am," Peeta assures me, making me laugh.

Once I'm dressed in his shirt and lying in bed, my knee propped up on a pillow, all the events of the day run through my mind. Bonnie and Twill. District 13. Details of the uprising in 8. The theory of the reused footage. I want to tell Peeta all of this, but I'm too afraid that the Capitol has bugged my house. It has sort of been an unspoken assumption between Peeta, Haymitch, and I. We always talk about more serious matters outside, away from the house.

So I'm forced to keep my recently learned knowledge to myself. Peeta lies beside me, his fingers laced behind his head. My mother came in a while ago, to check on me. She frowned at how comfortable Peeta and I were, how natural our situation seemed. Him lying next to me, completely relaxed. Me, in only his shirt, exposing more skin than she would deem proper. If only she knew that if we weren't at my house, and at his instead, Peeta would be shirtless and I'd probably be draped over his chest.

It's better that she doesn't know that, though. She manages not to make a comment, and I think it's a good thing Peeta removed his hand from my thigh only seconds before she came into the room. She had me take some pain killers and something else to help with the swelling. But I swear she gave Peeta a warning glare when she thought that I wasn't looking.

After a few more minutes of quiet, Peeta turns his head to face me. "I woke up and you were gone," he says.

I shrug. "I wake up all the time and you're not there," I say without thinking, but then I cringe. That came out wrong, much too accusatory. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Peeta forgives me instantly. "You're right. It's just . . . when I wake up and see you with me . . . I know that you're safe. This morning I didn't know."

I feel guilty. All of his nightmares are of losing me in some way, he told me once. I hate the thought of him waking up, worried about me, still halfway in his nightmare, and finding that I wasn't there. "I'm sorry," I apologize again.

Peeta props himself up on his elbow, lifting his free hand to sweep some errant strands of hair out of my eyes. "Don't be," he says. "Just tell me what made you feel the need to escape."

I sigh. "The big box of wedding dresses downstairs, approved by President Snow himself."

"Oh," Peeta says, his hand dropping back to his side as he rolls onto his back again. "I see."

I'm worried that he's misunderstood me. That I'm leading him to believe that I ran off into the woods because I was upset at the reminder of the wedding, which is technically true, but not for the reason I think he's supposing. He thinks that I don't want to marry him in the first place, which is not true. Granted, I would have liked to have waited a few more years, but I'm not opposed to marrying him.

"It's not you," I try and explain. "I want to marry you, Peeta. I really do." Peeta turns his head to look at me, and I continue. "It's just . . . it's such a private, personal moment between us. Getting married. And I don't want it share it with the Capitol, just as a form of entertainment. I want it to be our moment. Just us."

Peeta smiles. "Maybe I can fix that," he says before kissing me softly.

When he pulls away, I look at him curiously. What can Peeta do to stop this? There's no going around a Capitol wedding. "What are you thinking?" I ask.

"It's a secret," he says, giving me a sense of déjà vu. It's exactly what he said to me before the Games, when I asked him what his plan was.

"What's your plan?" I ask and Peeta chuckles.

"I'm working it out as we speak," he says before grinning at me. "But I'm still not telling you. It's going to be a surprise."

A week of lying in bed proves to be maddening. The first few days aren't bad because my knee is still rather painful at the slightest movement. It doesn't really bother me lounging around in bed all day. But once the middle of the week hits, I begin to get restless. Peeta carries me downstairs just for a change of scenery, but after a few hours it's not enough before my cabin fever begins to get the better of me again.

It would be somewhat better if I were at Peeta's house and not stuck in mine. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother, and I love Prim to death, but it's hard to be in your room with your fiancée, who is admittedly extremely good looking and muscled, and not be able to fully take advantage of this fact. Because, as Peeta often points out to me in amusement, between the two of us, I'm the vocal one. He teases me relentlessly about it, joking that people in town could probably hear me.

Around that point I typically hit him, playfully of course.

He still complains anyway.

However, one night when Peeta and I are downstairs, watching the television for news, they show something that takes my mind off of my hormonal distress. It's footage of the smoking ruins of District 13, the article referencing the Dark Days. I pay close attention to the screen and right as they cut to another story, I see the black and white wing of a mockingjay in the right-hand corner. I don't think much of it though, even if it proves Bonnie and Twill right, about the mockingjay at least. But it's a few nights later that my curiosity peaks. The reporter is talking about a graphite shortage in District 3, and they cut to the footage of District 13. Supposedly live, another reporter encased in a protective suit says that regrettably District 13 mines are still too toxic to approach. They cut back to the newsroom.

But not before I see the black and white flash of a mockingjay wing. They're reusing the footage. The reporter isn't in District 13. The editors just incorporated her into the old footage. She's not in District 13, which makes me wonder, what is?


Ah, the question that must be answered. What is in District 13? Hmm . . .

And what could this secret plan of Peeta's be?

Okay, the next chapter is one of my favorites. It's nearly 5,000 words of pure fluff. Happy, sweet PK times are ahead. After all, it's the least they deserve before I put them through hell. See? I'm being nice. :)

So, the quote from the next chapter comes from (drumroll please) . . . Rye!

"Hey! What about Wonder Boy over there? Don't play favorites. It's not nice."

Lots of love,

AC